Red Poison
by CallMeHannah
Summary: Sequel to Crimson Flames. A new serial killer is on the loose in Sacramento, and he has a particular way of killing his victims. *Set after the Season 5 finale* Jisbon guaranteed. Please feel free to review, they're all really appreciated. :)
1. Prologue

**Prologue.**

_The night is so quiet; there are few people out on the streets that it's easy for me to get about. Still, I keep to the shadows, not wanting to be seen on any of the street cameras, you can't be too careful. The moon is hiding amongst the clouds overhead, left behind from the storm earlier; it's a perfect night to hunt. All I have with me is my weapon of choice, no gun, no phone; they're too easily traced; a knife is too easy, too obvious. No, I'm not like one of those mediocre killers, a one off; I have bigger dreams than that. I'm not a psychopath, let me tell you that first off, my motives are pure and simple, to rid the world of bad men. Sure, my methods are a little over the top, I'll freely admit that, but desperate times call for desperate measures and these men have to be stopped. The target walks past the end of the alley, this is my chance!_

"_Help!" I cry, "Help me please!"_

_The man stops and looks towards me down the alley, it's dark so he won't be able to see my face._

"_Hello? Are you alright?" He bites,_

"_Please, I've been hurt," I tell him._

_A bit wearily, he comes closer. Quickly I pull up my hood and put on my mask to hide my identity. As soon as he is a few feet away, I strike, pushing him up against the wall, pinning him there by holding my arm against his neck._

"_Hey, get off me!" he squirms; his struggles are useless, he is weak and easily overpowered, despite his physical appearance. _

_I pull the syringe out of my pocket, remove the cap and stab him in the neck, he cries out as the liquid enters his bloodstream and I let him go. _

"_You…you…b…b…" he pants, before collapsing onto the dirty concrete floor._

_The poison works quickly; it has an immediate effect on him, in ten minutes, he'll die a slow and painful death, it's what he deserves. His face begins to go pale, his eyes are still alert and he's conscious, but paralysed. He and I both know that he is a goner._

_Weary not to be spotted, I remove the mask and hood before leaving the alley, taking a different route home where he is waiting; he's probably as hungry as I am. I haven't fed him in a few days so he'll be expecting some sort of treat tonight, he deserves it after gifting me with his venom to kill this evil man._


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1.**

When Patrick Jane opens his eyes the following morning, he smiles to himself; Lisbon is fast asleep, resting her head on his chest. He had imagined this scenario a a million times that he cannot believe that this is real; to be honest, the past few days have been a bit of a blur for him, ever since the bomb. _Last night was incredible, _he tells himself. The rain had stopped battering the window in the kitchen hours ago; they had pulled all of the cushions off the sofa and found several blankets in the cupboard. Having both been soaked by the rain, they changed into fresh clothes – Lisbon had to borrow a spare t-shirt and pair of shorts from Jane, her clothes still smell of smoke – and curled up under the sheets together. They talked for a while, both learning more and more about each other, things that they had previously kept safely guarded behind several firewalls, before closing their eyes and spending the night in each other's arms. Jane watches her, and gently lifts his free hand to stroke her hair. She moves slightly in her sleep to get comfier and twists her injured wrist, the pain wakes her up from her slumber; at first she isn't sure where she is, sitting up to get a better view of her surroundings.

"Lisbon," Jane calls softly to her, stroking her hair.

"Jane," she smiles, and leans back to get comfy again.

"Good morning," his voice is low and sexy.

She mirrors his tone, "hey."

He kisses the scar on her forehead; she closes her eyes, taking in how good she feels at the moment.

"Sleep well?"

"Like a baby," she smiles, "you?"

"The best that I've slept in years," he replies honestly, pulling her closer until they are millimetres away from each other, "I'm so glad you came here last night."

"So am I," she tells him before kissing him.

Their kiss is broken by Lisbon's phone ringing.

"Don't answer it," he tells her, pulling her closer.

"Mmmm," she murmurs, lips still pressed against him, but the ringing gets to her and she gets up to find it.

"You are on leave, aren't you?" Patrick asks, gathering momentum to sit up.

"Yes, it's Cho, so shush!" she raises her eyebrows to him and he keeps his lips together.

"Lisbon," she answers.

"Hey boss, sorry to disturb you, but we've got another body," the other agent replies.

"Great," she asks, Patrick joining her side, "we'll get there as soon as possible."

"I've got to tell you, this is an odd one," Cho tells her.

"Hang on, I'll put you on speaker," she presses the button on the screen, "go on."

"The victim, Caucasian male, late 40's, no wallet or means of identifying him, one puncture wound to the neck," Cho informs them, against the loud background noise, "it's really inflamed around the area, looks like some sort of poison, ME is trying to identify it now."

"Right, text me the address and we'll be on our way."

"Will do boss," he replies and then he ends the call.

"Thoughts?" She asks Jane.

"Mmm…" he mumbles, pulling her closer, "we could leave in about half an hour, we could give the excuse that we were stuck in traffic."

"Nope, I'm not going to lie to them," Lisbon replies, "so get changed."

"Aww," he gives her his best puppy impression.

"Jane, come on, we need to get going," she gives him a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away and collecting her clothes from the fireguard, they are a little crispy, but since she has nothing else to wear, they'll have to do.

Jane, meanwhile, makes his way to his bedroom to find a clean 3 piece suit to wear for today's antics. The thought of last night still plays over in his head, if he hadn't gone after her, what would have happened? _But none of that matter now, _he smiles to himself, peeling his t-shirt off and replacing it with a crisp sky blue shirt and iron grey waistcoat. His shoulder hurts less this morning, whether that is due to it healing quickly or the fact that he and Teresa had spent the night in each other's company, he isn't fully sure.

He is just buttoning up his trousers when Lisbon walks in, already fully dressed.

"Hey," she begins, "I just wanted to ask you something."

"Yeah, sure," he replies, giving her his full attention.

"You know the rules about…y'know…co-workers and such…" she isn't completely sure how to phrase it.

"I get it," he tells her, "I won't say anything."

"Thank you," she smiles, "it's just…"

"No worries, okay? I won't say a word about _us_."

"It's not that I didn't enjoy last night, because I did," she bites her bottom lip, "I just don't want us to get into trouble."

"My lips are sealed," he tells her, "I promise."

"Good, well, we'd better get going then. I've got the address."

The alley smells foul, the large skips beside them are filled to the brim with discarded rubbish from passers-by. Rigsby and Van Pelt have gone away to canvass the area, trying to find any witnesses, leaving Cho alone with the local Medical Examiner to go over the body and crime scene. They are just putting the body onto the gurney when Jane's car pulls up on the other side of the street. They race across to examine the body before it is put into the van.

"Hi," Cho greets them, "sorry, ME wanted to get him back asap, just in case whatever poisoned him is contagious."

"Robbery gone wrong?" she asks.

"Could be," Cho replies, moving aside to let them see the crime scene as a whole, "no wallet, phone, nothing. We'll pull his prints and run them against the criminal and DMV database."

"Who found him?"

"Over there," Cho points to a woman who looks like she has seen a ghost.

"Jane, you coming?"

"Err…I'll be there in a minute," he replies, crouching down beside the flags marking out where the body was.

"Ma'am," Lisbon addresses the lady, "I'm Agent Teresa Lisbon with the CBI, is it alright if I ask you a few questions?"

The still terrified woman nods in reply and begins to fiddle with a crumpled up tissue in her hands.

"Did you recognise the man that you found this morning?"

"No," her reply is short and hurried.

"About what time did you find him this morning?"

"Around 7.30, I was walking to work when I…" tears begin to form in her eyes.

Her attention turns to Jane when he joins them, he whispers something in Lisbon's ear before taking the traumatised lady away from the opening of the alleyway.

"What did he say?" Cho asks Lisbon, when the pair are out of earshot.

"Check the wall," she replies, unsure as to what he meant.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," Jane speaks calmly and slowly, so not to spook the terrified woman.

"Dorothy Kent," she whispers.

"Okay, Dorothy, I'm Patrick Jane and I'm a consultant with the CBI," he tells her, stopping before turning to face her head on, "just take a few deep breaths, and when you're ready, tell me what happened this morning."

Cho follows Lisbon down the alley; they walk slowly, inspecting every brick in the wall until they complete a whole circle, it takes time and is very tedious but they know from experience that good detective work is being thorough and not skipping any corners.

"What do you think Jane meant when he said that?" Kimble asks.

"Goodness knows," Lisbon responds, "it's probably one of his riddles."

"No it's not," Jane startles them both, "Mrs Kent over there said that she saw no one fleeing the alley, nor anyone hanging around that looked suspicious at the time when she found the body."

"That fits, the ME reckons that the time of death was around two o'clock last night," Cho chimes in, "so, what's this about a brick?"

"Over here," Patrick leads them to the wall behind the flags, and points to a brick about six feet up the wall, on one of the rough imperfections of the brick is a dark coloured fibre.

"I'll get forensics to bag it, nice eye," Cho waves one of the forensics officers, who brings a bag and a pair of tweezers with him.

"So far, we have a time of death and a fibre that might be form the killer," Lisbon sums up, "besides that, what else do we have?"

"Rigsby and Van Pelt are canvassing at the minute, hopefully, they'll unearth something," Cho replies.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

"Victim's name is Phillip Harding, 48," Cho relays the information from phone to Lisbon and Jane, "ME has yet to identify the poison used in the attack, but from the looks of it, the poison is from a species of snake."

"And the single puncture means that it was administered by syringe," Jane mulls it over, "Lisbon, any theories so far?"

"No, but the name sounds familiar, doesn't it," she replies, "I'm convinced that I've heard it before."

"It'll come to you. Cho, do you have his address?"

"Yeah," he pulls a Post-It note off the pad and hands it to his colleague.

"Thanks, c'mon Lisbon, maybe his family can shed some light on why he was killed," Jane suggests.

"Yeah," she replies absently, still thinking as to where she has heard the name before.

The pair are just walking out of the bullpen, when they are joined by Rigsby and Van Pelt.

"Hey," they both greet unintentionally in unison, in awkwardness, they look confusedly at each other.

"Find anything during canvassing?" Lisbon asks, noticing that something is off about the pair.

"A few things," Van Pelt begins, breaking the weird tension, "first off, one of the shop owners was up last night, luckily at the time of the murder, he says that he saw a man about 6ft tall enter the alley, he was wearing a hooded jacket and didn't get a look at his face, he was shortly followed by the victim."

"Yeah," Rigsby chimes in, "he said that the victim was coaxed into the alley."

"Great," Teresa smiles at them.

"We're gonna start collecting CCTV tapes in close proximity to see if we can get a better look at his face," Grace adds, "so, any news your end?"

"Got an ID and address, that's where Jane and I are heading now," Lisbon replies.

"Great, well, we'll see you soon then," Rigsby and Van Pelt say in almost harmony.

Like an obedient puppy, Jane follows Lisbon past them and to the lift.

"Did you notice something odd between them?" Lisbon whispers to Jane.

"No," Jane tries to dodge a bullet, having overheard that Rigsby wanted to get back together with Van Pelt at the memorial for Walter Mashburn.

"Jane, I can tell when you're lying, so give it up now before I beat it out of you," Lisbon counters, just as the lift doors open; luckily, there is no one in.

They get in and Jane presses the button to go down.

"With one hand?" he raises an eyebrow, a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

Teresa looks down at the thick cast covering her broken wrist and then looks Jane in the eye, "don't test me."

Jane subtly puts his arm behind his back and crosses his fingers, "if I knew, then I would tell you," he responds.

"Fine, but whatever is going on, I will find out about it," she vows.

He runs his hand through his hair, "okay," he replies.

Phillip Harding's house sits in a quiet neighbourhood on the outskirts of the city; the whole cul-de-sac is spotless, there is no litter dumped on the side of the street, each house has a front garden that looks meticulous, enclosed by the same white picket fencing, children play on the street without fear; it is a haven.

"Wow, posh neighbourhood," Jane says as he gawks at the houses.

"Eyes on the road, please Jane," Lisbon interrupts him, regretting that she even got in the car with him driving and with one arm too.

"Sorry, I've been reading _Of Mice and Men _again recently and it just reminds of the American Dream and whatnot," Jane replies, still in awe of the architecture.

"Can't you do that later?"

"Sure, gosh we sound like an old…"

"Don't!" Lisbon interjects before he can finish.

"Just saying," he turns to her with the same cheeky grin.

"Road," she mouths to him.

"Gosh, you really are a backseat driver aren't you?"

"It's the one at the end," she sighs.

Jane is the first to the front door and knocks before Lisbon has a chance to join him. The door is answered by a teenage boy, his brown hair covers half his face and his eyes are glued to his phone.

"Yeah?" he mumbles.

"Hi, we're with the CBI, we need to speak to your mother," Teresa tells him, "is she in?"

He grumbles before disappearing back into the house. Jane doesn't say anything but gives his partner a look as if to say _kids, eh?_

"Hello?" a very petite woman appears in the doorway wearing a dressing gown.

"Mrs Harding?"

"Yes," she answers.

"May we come in, it's about your husband," Lisbon tells her softly.

"Of course, why, what has happened to Phil?"

"It's better if we talk inside," Jane replies, using the same tone of voice as Lisbon.

"Of course, please, follow me," she leads them through a grand hallway to a large lounge, she offers them a seat on the mint coloured sofa, whilst she sits opposite in the matching armchair.

Whilst Teresa introduces them and tells her what has happened overnight, Jane has a chance to study the woman, who reminds him of a whippet; slight of frame, she sits with her legs crossed and hands perched on her knees. There was something that seemed a little unusual about the victim's wife, nothing that screamed_ killer _to him, but told him that there is more than meets the eye with the wife. She looks like she has been under a lot of stress recently, and she has tried to cover it up with a dense plastering of make up on her face, and on her legs.

When it has all sunk in, Meredith Harding stands and offers them a drink; to have time alone, Jane asks for a bottle of water, she obliges and leaves the room.

"So, what do you think?" Jane whispers.

"She didn't seem upset when she found out," Lisbon replies in the same hushed tone, "there is something that we're missing."

"One moment," Jane pulls out his phone and begins to text Grace, he types quickly and manages to send it before Meredith returns.

"Here you go Mr Jane," she hands him the cold bottle and sits back down on the chair.

"Thank you, oh, I'm sorry for your loss Mrs Harding," he hopes to prompt her into giving him more information.

"Thank you Mr Jane, it's just awful, how did you say it happened again?" she enquires.

"He was poisoned, Mrs Harding," Lisbon replies, "do you have any idea who may have done this to your husband?"

"I'm sorry but I don't," she tells them, "Phil was so well liked in the community."

That's when Jane sees it, the look of relief on her face. His phone rings and he excuses himself to answer it out in the hallway.

"Grace, thank you for getting back to me so quickly, what have you found?"

Jane is out there a few moments before returning to Lisbon's side on the sofa.

"So, Mrs Harding, you have no idea who may have wanted to harm your husband?" the tone of voice sounds like he already has an idea.

"No, Mr Jane, I've already told you this," she retaliates.

"A colleague has just informed me that there have been complaints filed about your husband, by you, claiming that he has abused you," Jane tells her.

"Is this true?" Lisbon is taken aback.

"Look, I can explain…"


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3.**

Meredith Harding is waiting in the interrogation room, her eyes scanning the mirror opposite her. Cho is in the surveillance room alongside Jane, the agent watches her every move and thinking of how to approach the interview. When they brought her in, she was silent and very skittish; Cho knows that he has to approach her carefully and try to get her co-operation on the case. All they had was a sighting of a person in a hood and a fibre; Meredith is too short to be the suspect that fled the scene, but she may be able to shed some light on who wanted to harm him, now that they knew about the abuse. Kimble makes his move.

"Mrs Harding, I'm Agent Cho," he introduces himself as he sits on the chair opposite her.

"Agent, you have to believe me, I have no idea who did this," she tells him, leaning across the desk, "I know I didn't exactly break down when I was told, but Phil was a horrible man."

"You described him to my fellow agents as, and I quote, '_Phil was so well liked in the community'_," Cho responds.

"I had to say that," she sighs, painfully, "everyone thought that he was perfect, but he was far from that."

"And the allegation of abuse?" Cho prompts her.

Without a word, she rummages in her handbag and pulls out a packet of wipes. She pulls one out and removes some of the make-up, revealing a dark blue and purple bruise on her cheek.

"Did anyone know about this?" he asks her softly, sympathising with the woman who was used as a punching bag by her own husband.

"No," she replies, "I tried to hide it, hoping that one day that it would just stop and everything would go back to normal. Nobody asked about it so I assumed that they didn't care, either that or I hid it too well."

"Why would you think that?" Cho asks, shocked that she has made such a statement.

"When you have few friends, the thought just crosses your mind. That is why I lied to your colleagues, Agent Cho, I'm ashamed of what he did to me," she whispers, a tear begin to tumble down her exposed cheek.

Outside, Lisbon is putting the finishing touches to the murder board; outlined in heavy red marker is the time of death and the description of the suspect. Alongside those notes, in black marker is _fibre?_, to her, it feels like the best lead that they have so far.

"Hey, Lisbon, I've got something!" Grace calls her from across the room.

Immediately, she makes her way over; Rigsby remains at his desk, going over yet another reel of CCTV footage that Van Pelt and he managed to recover. When Lisbon reaches her, Grace points at a figure on the screen, "this guy matches the description of the witness."

"Can you get a better angle?"

"Nope, he keeps his face pretty well hidden," Van Pelt replies.

"He's good," Teresa narrows her eyes at the screen, "any chance you could follow him? See where he goes and if he gets into a car, we could run the plates."

"On it boss," Grace nods as she begins to pull up the other files.

"Rigsby, any word from forensics about that fibre?"

"Yep, it struck out, it's from the victim's jacket," he responds, "but, good news, the poison has been partially identified as some kind of snake venom, they're working on it to determine what species."

"That's a very unusual way to kill someone," Grace interjects.

"A statement maybe?" Rigsby suggests.

"Possible, but let's not speculate yet, let's just deal with the facts. All we know so far is that the killer is about 6ft tall, and has a fascination with snakes and/or snake venom."

"This guy gives me the creeps," Jane interrupts, startling the three agents, "but you have to admit, this guy is pretty cool, in an odd murderous kind of way."

"How long have you been there?" Lisbon asks him.

"Long enough," he smiles, "does anyone want a drink?"

"Whoa, hang on, what do you mean '_pretty cool_''?" Wayne enquires.

"Well, think about it, this guy is clever; he keeps his face covered and has skill using a syringe, judging from the victim this morning. But he has a clever way of killing his victims," he explains.

"How'd you figure that out?" Grace looks away from her screen.

"He uses snake venom, now, presuming that he doesn't hold back, this type of venom will be powerful and be excruciating pain," he elaborates, "plus, this guy must have experience with said snake because he wouldn't have bought it off the internet, so he extracted it himself."

They pause as the victim's wife walks down the corridor with Cho to the exit.

"That's quite an insight, Jane," Lisbon tells him, "but we must keep all options open. This would be a lot easier if we knew what species, but let's look at all of the pet shops in Sacramento, focusing on those that sell venomous snakes. Rigsby, can you do background checks on all of the shop owners?"

"Sure thing boss," he responds.

Jane hurries to the break room, after getting up…later than expected, he is gasping for a cup of his favourite tea. He is joined by Teresa, who finds her cup in the washing up bowl and begins to rinse it out. Jane turns the kettle on to boil.

"So," Jane begins, "what are your immediate thoughts about our perp?"

"Perp?" she smiles at him.

"Yeah, perp, or suspect, if you prefer to call him that," he reaches for a teaspoon from the drawer, as the kettle turns itself off.

"He's mad," she replies simply, "the guy kills with snake venom, he's clearly delusional."

"Hmm," Jane pauses to pour the boiling water, "well, he clearly wanted the victim to suffer. Maybe he caught on to the abuse Phil was giving his wife, family maybe?"

"We'll have to check that out," Lisbon replies.

"Already done, she's an only child and her father passed away last year," Cho interrupts, heading for the freshly brewed coffee in the pot, "I asked her before she left."

"Close friends?"

"We can track any known associates," Cho replies, pouring himself a cup, "but she said that she hasn't got many friends. None of them even noticed that she was being abused."

"Poor woman," Jane sympathises, stirring the tea with a spoon, "any idea how long it was going on?"

"I read the report," Lisbon interjects, "it was going on for about a year and nobody noticed."

"She thought that nobody would care," Cho adds.

"Check their financial," Lisbon tells Cho, "it's possible that the wife ordered a hit on her husband. I know a gun or knife is more likely to be used in these murders, but maybe she got in touch with our guy and he decided to use the venom."

"Sure," Cho makes his way to his desk, coffee in hand.

"So, what are we going to do?" Jane asks, taking a sip of one of his fragrant concoctions that all the agents have trouble pronouncing.

Lisbon's phone begins to ring.

"Lisbon," she answers the phone, after a few seconds, her face drops, "okay, we'll be on our way," she ends the call.

"What is it?" Jane asks.

"We've got another victim," she replies.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4.**

The wind has picked up significantly from before, so Cho, Jane and Lisbon are quick to the scene. This victim was killed in an alley, similar to that of Phillip Harding, the scene is almost identical, the body lying amongst the dirt and rubbish dumped by passers-by; Jane can already see the tuft of fabric on the brick wall. The crime scene unit has placed a protective barrier around the entrance to the alley, so no possible evidence can escape; officers are busy taking pictures of the body when the agents have the opportunity to finally examine the victim first hand. Knowing that this poison isn't contagious, the body has not been removed; alike Harding, this victim has a swollen neck; each blister looks like it is set to burst at any moment. From the frozen look in his eyes, he died a horrible, painful death.

"I take it back," Jane says, coldly, "this killer isn't pretty cool."

"Glad to hear it," Lisbon replies, before stopping a passing office. "who's the victim?"

"James Tuffnull, local estate agent," the young officer informs her, "his wallet was in his pocket."

"Any witnesses?"

He points to the entrance where a few of his fellow officers are interviewing a couple; both look in shock, and every so often, glance back down the alley to see if it is all real.

"Cho," Teresa prompts.

"On it," he replies, and approaches the group.

"Jane," she addresses him, "what's your take on this?"

"He's getting more confident," he surveys the scene, "from the looks of things, this man hasn't been dead long."

"Correct," the ME appears from a group of CSU officers, "this man died at approximately 7.00am," he approaches the two agents and shakes their hands, "Maxwell Johnson," he introduces himself.

"Teresa Lisbon CBI," she responds, "and this is Patrick Jane, our consultant."

"This is an odd case, don't you think?" Jane asks the Medical Examiner.

"It certainly is Mr Jane," he replies, crouching down beside the body, "I managed to have a quick look at the first victim, the cause of death is identical, a single injection to the left side of the neck. There is also a small wound on the back of his head, consistent with the suspect shoving the victim up against the wall quite hard before injecting him."

"The press are going to have a field day with this," Lisbon sighs.

"What ticked this guy off?" Jane thinks out loud.

"What do you mean?" Johnson enquires.

"These attacks are very quick and the killer has no problem overpowering them," he begins, "he kills in an alley, somewhere public, but secluded."

"Hey," Cho interrupts, "you're going to want to hear this. The witnesses saw a man flee from the alley, dressed in all black wearing a mask."

"What kind of mask?" Jane and Lisbon ask in perfect harmony.

"They're being taken to see a sketch artist; their description was a little difficult to understand."

"Does he live nearby?" Jane asks.

"Yeah, just a few blocks away," Cho replies, "I got a look at his driving licence before, I've written it down for you."

"Thanks," Lisbon takes the piece of paper from him and looks at Cho's neat handwriting, "Jane, you coming?"

"Do you mind if I stay here?" he asks.

"Sure, I'll see you later then," Lisbon responds, and then she takes Cho aside, "keep an eye on him will ya?"

Cho nods, before crouching beside Maxwell to get a closer look at the victim.

"Cho, do you mind if I take a look around the next few blocks?" Patrick asks.

"If you want, just don't go too far," Cho dismisses him

The streets are overcrowded now; news has spread quickly of the estate agents death and now everybody wants to know what has happened. From his experience chasing serial killers, he knows that patience is a virtue; they eventually slip up and will reveal themselves to the CBI. A killer such as the one they are chasing is drawn to death; he will inevitably end up close to the scene of his crime, attracted like a magnet to its opposite pole. He scans the crowd, many men of the same height and build as their suspect. He doubts that this man will be in the main group of people; he would be observing from afar, watching the reactions of his crime. Moving away from the crowd, he keeps his head down, he moves away from the hustle and bustle of the morning rush hour and heads down the street. Someone is following him, subtly, he manages to catch a glimpse of a lady walking with her German Shepard. He moves aside to let her past, she thanks him and carries on with her walk. As soon as she is out of sight, someone suddenly grabs him from behind, covers his mouth and nose with a cloth and drags him back into the darkness. After inhaling a sweet odour, his body goes limp.

An hour later, Lisbon returns from speaking to the family, and is greeted by Cho, who has stayed inside the yellow tape to comb through every square inch of the scene.

"How was it?"

"Same reaction, the wife was in shock," Lisbon replies, "but it's the same story, wife beater."

"Another commonality," Cho sighs, "this guy is going after people who abuse their own wives."

"Where's Jane?" Lisbon abruptly changes the subject.

"He went off just after you left, but I told him to stay close," Cho answers, "I completely forgot that he was gone."

"I told you to watch him, you know what he is like," Lisbon retaliates, a little angrier than intended.

Cho pulls out his phone from his pocket and dials Jane's number, no answer. He shakes his head at Lisbon; she immediately heads out of the alley and makes her way up the street. Luckily, many of the crowd have now dispersed, leaving the street pretty much empty.

"Jane!" she calls out to him, but receives the same answer as Cho: nothing.

She continues up the street only stopping to look down each alley for him, in case he is off on one of his little explorations; but every alley is exactly the same as the last: empty.

"Patrick, where the hell are you?"


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5.**

_He's at my mercy now; I've bound him to a chair and covered his eyes in a thick cloth, there's no way he can identify me. Searching his pockets I found his phone and a laminated card that identifies this man as Patrick Jane, a consultant for the CBI. It must be pretty big if they've got the CBI involved in all of this. _

Jane stirs, groaning in pain as his shoulder is bent back in an awkward position; he's able to move his hand to feel the thick roped looped around him, and to top it all off, he can't see and the air smells foul.

"Hello?" he groggily asks.

"Hello Patrick," the man replies, his voice a lot deeper than normal to disguise his voice.

In his head, he quickly runs a comparison with the seven Red John suspects; it is not a match to any of them.

"Who are you?"

The man pauses for a moment, and then says "Venom."

"And what's your real name?"

"Ah, I'm not that stupid Patrick," he laughs.

"So, why do you do this Venom? Do you know these men personally?"

"Why would I want to know these dogs?!" Venom spits.

Knowing that he has struck a nerve, Jane presses on.

"I mean, the way you kill is very up close and personal, most killers prefer a gun; for a quick and easy kill."

"I like to see the light leave their eyes, the pain they feel as they suffer, the fear as they know that they are going to die."

"Why?"

"It's what they deserve."

"Why?"

"A man who beats the woman he is supposed to love, to protect, to cherish, should be made to suffer."

"That is not for you to decide, that is for a judge and jury," Jane reasons.

"No, they are easily corrupted; it's too easy for the son of a bitch to get off without so much as a warning."

"Aren't you corrupted?"

"Far from it," he smiles, "nobody pays me for the hit."

"So you're a good Samaritan?"

"Yeah, I guess you could call me that."

"So, why do you use snake venom? It's very unusual."

"Unfortunately, this is where the conversation ends, I have one more kill and then it's over…well, for now at least."

_I pull the syringe from my backpack and approach him, he struggles as I get closer, he can hear me coming._

"Wait, please, just wait," Jane begs.

But the man doesn't stop, and plunges the syringe into the top of Jane's arm. He sucks in air to ride through the pain as something enters his system. Noises around him echo like he has a bucket on his head, the tinny sounds fade and he passes out.

It was Grace's idea to track Jane's phone's GPS, which subsequently leads them to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city; some twenty blocks from the last place he was seen. Only a small team of8 had been assembled to rescue Jane, smaller numbers make it easier to move around the area without the possibility of being spotted. Not knowing whether the suspect is still in the vicinity, each member keeps extra vigilant on the approach; firearms sweeping side to side; each foot placed with care. They approach the warehouse's large iron door, it easily slides open, rattling on its hinges; Teresa slides it open enough so they can fit through the gap with ease. Lisbon leads the way, followed by Rigsby, then Cho, then Van Pelt, the remainder of the officers linger back checking the exit and dispersing in pairs into the rooms that sit on either side of the corridor. They silently give the signal 'all clear' and continue onto the next until they reach two flights of stairs; one leading up onto the second floor, the other leading to the basement. Lisbon tells the other four officers to take the second floor and if it is clear, to join them in the basement. They all nod and silently climb the old wooden staircase; the other four descend down the matching staircase, being cautious not to step on the rotten parts of each step. When they reach the bottom, they flick on their torches and scan the area, their eyes take time to adjust to the enveloping darkness. Cho goes first, as he holds the largest gun, followed by Rigsby; Teresa and Grace hold back a little, only armed with their pistols. There are various rooms leading off the main corridor, just as they were on the main floor; but all the doors are closed, one by one, they efficiently search each room carefully, though none of them have been disturbed for years. The further down the corridor they go, the worst the stench becomes; it begins to dawn on them that, apart from Jane and the suspect, they may not be alone. Finally, they reach the last room, the door seems a feeble barrier between them and whatever lies behind, but it stands solid against the brute force of Cho and Rigsby when they try to pry it open. Kimble and Wayne look at each other and back away from the door, subconsciously knowing the other's plan.

"One, two, three…" Cho whispers.

Both of them kick the door, which splinters in two and falls within a cloud of dust to the floor. The group of agents enter the room quickly, the noise would have spooked the suspect and he could be getting away. The light of their small torches is meagre compared to the vastness of the room; they fan out, covering as much ground as possible. Four lights suddenly appear behind them; the rest of the officers had found nothing on the second floor and have followed Lisbon's instructions. A door slams from the other side of the room, they pick up the pace, heading in the general direction of the noise. It is then that one of the other officers, Officer James Carter, runs into something on the far left hand side and yelps; bringing up the torch to examine the object, he comes face to face with a man bound to a rusty metal chair, his eyes covered with a scrap piece of material, golden hair smothered down and littered with debris. The rest of the party all look across, but it is Lisbon who moves first, sprinting towards them, her heart in her mouth. Knowing that the suspect is fleeing, she shouts to the rest of the team, "GO! GO! I've got him!"

The others dash across the room, avoiding obstacles such as decaying boxes and broken water pipes. Lisbon removes the blindfold and unties the rope, but he does not stir.

"Jane?" she places her hand on his cheek, "Jane…"

He remains still.

"JANE!" She lightly slaps him.

His body jerks, before his eyes open, "Lisbon?" he murmurs.

"Oh thank God!" she smiles, taking him in her arms, "you're okay."

He places his arm around her, "yeah, I'm good," his voice still croaky,

"Don't do anything like this again."

"I won't," he replies, before kissing the side of her head, "I promise."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6.**

"I couldn't see anything," Jane says to Lisbon.

"But he spoke to you?"

They sit on the sofa in her office, with all the blinds drawn for privacy; Jane looks visibly shaken from the experience, his cup of tea rattles ever so slightly on the saucer in his hand and his eyes keep darting from Lisbon towards the door.

"Hey," she places her hand on his, "you're safe here."

He smiles at her, looking more like himself by the second, he knows that she is trying her best to comfort him, but he just can't shake it off just yet.

"When you're ready, just tell me what happened," Lisbon tells him.

He takes a sip of his tea and then a deep breath. He goes on to explain what happened; walking away from the crime scene; the smell of chloroform; the stench of the warehouse basement and then finally, coming too to find her arms around him.

"I'm going to take you home," she stands, still holding his hand, hoping that he will follow her lead.

"I'm okay, Teresa," he smiles, more to convince himself than her, "he told me that there is going to be another victim. He's going to kill someone else."

"Did he specify who?" she returns to her seat beside him.

"No, he only said that the men that he kills deserve it because they beat their own wives," he informs her, "how he found out about the other two victims, I'm not sure yet."

"The other three can deal with that," Lisbon replies, "at the moment, you are my first priority."

"Lisbon," he begins, but she interrupts him before he can make a valid case.

"No Jane, the guy used animal tranquiliser to knock you out; Johnson says that it won't do any damage to you, but better safe than sorry."

"Animal tranquiliser?"

"Yeah, and before you say it, yes we have been doing background checks on animal shop owners."

"How's that going?"

"None so far, we'll be checking the employees next. With only 10 stores to check, it shouldn't take long until we have a suspect list."

"What about the next victim?"

"If the wife isn't willing to admit to being abused, as the wives of our vics are, then there's little we can do. On one hand, if they admit to domestic abuse, but on the other hand, they are in danger of falling victim to this crazy guy."

"He thinks that he is doing a good job," Jane comments.

"Well, the guy is delusional. He murders wife beaters and wears a mask to hide his identity," Lisbon sighs.

"Did the witnesses help?"

"Not really," she gets up to retrieve a piece of paper from her desk and passes it to him.

Before he takes a long look, he places his cup on the table beside him. The mask is very similar to that of Marvel's _Spiderman, _but it has a few differences; the eyes are larger and are a fluorescent yellow colour with a black line down the middle as the pupil. The rest of the mask is jet black, with little details added on to make it look like a snake's head.

"Well, he definitely thinks that he's a snake," Jane observes.

"What I don't get is why does he have such a narrow profile for his victims?"

"Maybe he uses snake logic," Jane pauses in thought," "if that's a real thing."

"What are you going on about?" Lisbon asks him, a confused look on her face, "maybe Johnson was wrong about that stuff Venom gave you."

"Oh ha ha, I mean, a snake only strikes if it is provoked," he points out.

"Yeah, but snakes also use their venom to kill their prey, and I doubt that the next victim will have a missing body part."

"Hey Jane," Rigsby opens the door, and then knocks, "how are you feeling?"

"Not too bad," Jane replies.

There is a shout for Lisbon from the bullpen, she gets up and excuses herself from their company. Wayne takes her seat beside Jane, and waits for the door to close before engaging in conversation.

"So, you and the boss eh?"

"Pardon?"

"How did she react when you told her?" Rigsby settles down, ready to hear the details. Having known that the pair had some kind of connection for years, he is looking forward to hearing how the strong minded Lisbon took her consultant's declaration of love.

"Errm, well, at first she... well, she didn't say anything, we didn't speak for a few days," Jane is not sure how far he has dug himself into a hole, so he keeps it vague, knowing that Teresa would kill him if she found out, "how's it going with Grace?"

Wayne isn't sure how much he should tell Jane, if he is _with _Lisbon, can he trust him to not tell her.

"I won't tell Lisbon," Jane assures him, as if he had read his mind,

"We're…good, hell, we're great even," he smiles.

Knowing that he is holding back, Jane adjusts his position on the sofa to face the agent fully.

"This has to stay private," Rigsby tells him, his voice almost a whisper.

Jane nods, acknowledging the importance of his discretion.

"I proposed," the agent reveals.

"Wow, Wayne, that's great, good for you," Jane smiles, "when is it?"

"Ah, we've not planned that much ahead; we wanted to sort out our career paths before deciding on a date, you remember what happened last time."

"My lips are sealed," Jane reassures him, "congrats."

"Thanks, man," Wayne appreciates Jane not telling the boss just yet, "so, how're you holding up? That stuff must've been pretty strong to knock you out for 5 hours straight."

"I was out that long?"

"Yeah, it's almost 8pm."

"Today seems to have lasted forever," Jane sighs exhaustedly.

"How about I take you home?" Rigsby offers.

"Thanks Wayne, if it's not too much trouble," he replies.

"Not at all, c'mon, let's get you out of here."

As the pair walk out Lisbon's office, Jane manages to catch a quick look at the developing murder board. A plethora of information has been added since he last saw it, including the sketch of the mask, the addresses where Jane was taken from and then found, and times. They obviously are going to check close by CCTV cameras, as well as combing the streets to find any witnesses. But Jane didn't care about that right now, all he wants to do now is to soak in the bath and let all his worries just float away and disappear down the drain.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7.**

_Stupid imbecile, look at him, sitting there in one of the most expensive coffee shops in town, sipping a latte without a care in the world. He has no idea that tonight will be his last. I'm hiding behind a large skip, across the street from this… well, it's an insult to call him a man really; I doubt that he has seen me, or the public have sussed it out yet. Already the sun is setting, and soon, it'll be completely dark with nothing and I'll just have the moon and the stars for company. People are heading home to their families, to bed, until they have to repeat the same routine tomorrow, and then the day after that, and after that; the same thing over and over. I'm not saying that my 'activity' is a hobby, neither is it an escape from my normal life; I see it as a service, getting rid of imbeciles like this makes the world a better place. My time will come, the death penalty it may be, but I'll die knowing that, although it may not seem like it at the minute, I've made a difference in this world. The police are closing in, sooner or later they'll find me, and I'll go willingly, but not tonight, they're bound to be pissed that I took that Patrick guy. The only reason that I took him was to try and explain my logic; I hope it worked. That's why I only gave him the tranquiliser, he didn't deserve the same fate as the others, he's a good guy from what I've read up about him anyway. Wait a minute, there's another man…he's walking up to the target…no, no, no, you're going to ruin everything! _

_I've been waiting an hour, not even a hundred games on my phone has cured my boredom. Buffoon! He's ruined it; the target has bought another drink, and he's been chatting with his companion. Taking out two men is way too risky for me, besides, I only have one syringe of venom. If this guy would just go away and leave us be, so we can get down to business, but he just sits there. Sighing, I'll to leave it; tomorrow is just as good as any day to get him. I'll drift off if I have to stay here another hour. _

Jane enters the living room from his bathroom, having had an hour and a half long soak in the bath, accompanied by a cup of therapeutic tea and a playlist on his iPod. Retrieving his pain killers from the cupboard for his shoulder, he notices the makeshift bed that he had shared with Lisbon the night before. He smiles at the memory, though he still does not fully believe that it happened though he remembers it vividly. She knows that he unconditionally loves her, and he knows that she feels the same; it's as if he is in a dream that he never wants to end. She _loves _him. For all the years that they have known one another, he had never thought that he would be in a 'relationship' with the stubborn senior agent; neither of them were ready to trust anyone in such a way, let alone fall in love with each other. Red John is still at large; Jane knows that they are walking on very thin ice, one false move would blow their relationship wide open and into the icy waters, and he has no intention of letting that happen, not after everything that they have been through. Rigsby knows to keep his lips tightly sealed about what Jane told him today; besides, they mutually agreed not to spread the word on each other's personal relationship. Blowing that whistle would be bad for all four of them, lucky Cho. Jane takes a few sips of his tea to wash down his medication before he begins to tidy up the entanglement of pillows and blankets in the living room. The pain in his shoulder begins to subside, making it easier to put things away. He pauses when he hears footsteps approach his front door, there is a moment of silence before…

"Jane, could you let me in please!"

He curses to himself for not giving her a key earlier, puts the neatly folded blanket on the sofa before letting his partner in.

"How's the case?" Jane asks her.

"Getting there," she responds, "we've finally got some suspect names."

"Ooh, tell me more," he moves aside to let her in before closing and locking the door.

"Before I start, is it okay if I get something to eat from your fridge? I haven't had the chance to get a bite to eat."

"Go ahead, what's mine is yours," he smiles, and then realises that he too hasn't eaten a scrap, "tell you what, how about I whip something up and you relax?"

"I'm not the one who's been kidnapped today Jane," Lisbon reasons.

"I'm fine," he reassures her, "omelette okay?"

She looks at him, he's giving her the puppy look again and it's adorable! Though she hates backing down, she nods and follows him to the kitchen near the rear of the house.

"So," he begins, taking half a dozen eggs from the fridge, "who are the suspects?"

"After all the owners of the pet shops cleared, we did a background check on the employees," she explains, "two of which brought up red flags."

Patrick cracks each egg open, with a little difficulty, and drops the whites and the yolks into a glass mixing bowl, "go on."

"The first suspect is Carl Jennings, he knew James Tuffnell, the second victim. It turns out that they went to high school together and were both jocks. From what we've heard from fellow classmates, they weren't friends off the field," Lisbon expands, perching herself on one on the worktops, "also, when we asked the owner, he specifies that Jennings has an interest in exotic snakes."

"And suspect number two?" Jane asks, adding milk to the eggs.

"His name is Joey Kingston, he's been known to sell exotic species on the Black Market, but we've had no concrete evidence on him, so he's avoided arrest."

"Both these guys seem to fit the killer profile," Jane replies, taking a whisk to the mixture, making quite a racket as he struggles to stop the bowl sliding across the slippery worktop surface.

Teresa can't help but laugh at him as he tries his best to follow the bowl as it moves in circles. As it approaches her, she holds it still for him whilst he finishes.

"Y'know, I hope that this is worth the effort," she teases him.

"It will be," he smiles, "I promise you that."

She dips her forefinger in the bowl and puts a small drop on the end of his nose.

"Yep, now you look like a chef," she laughs, before being silence by Jane's lips against hers.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8.**

Jane has been staring at the bedroom ceiling now for about an hour; unlike Lisbon, who is sleeping soundly beside him, he cannot close his eyes without being reminded of the warehouse basement; the foul odour still haunts him and every time that he closes his eyes, he imagines himself returning to that awful place. He had been taken before, even held captive by Red John, why is he so bothered this time? It is something that he cannot put his finger on. Unable to cope much more in the silence, he gently lifts Teresa's arm off his chest and shuffles away from her, grimacing with the pain from his shoulder, as the effect of the pain relief has faded away with every hour that has ticked by. Remembering the mess that they had left in the kitchen, he returns to the kitchen to find the dishes awaiting their fate by the sink. Ignoring them for the moment, he grabs a tumbler glass from the overhead cabinet and pours himself a glass of water. His choice of beverage manages to quench his thirst but does little to calm him down. To preoccupy himself, he fills the washing up bowl with hot soapy water and begins to clean the dishes, being as quiet as possible.

"Hey," Lisbon surprises him, "what are you doing up so late?"

"Errm, I couldn't sleep," he puts on his brave face, but his defence doesn't fool is partner.

"Is this about what happened earlier?"

Helplessly, he nods.

"It's okay to admit that you're still a little shaken by it all," Lisbon tells him, joining him beside the sink.

"I know," he sighs, tears beginning to sting his eyes, "it's just that…" he trails off when Teresa wraps her arms around him.

"You're safe here," she whispers in his ear.

"I know," he repeats.

"Hey," she pulls away and wipes his falling tears away, "look at me."

When he look at her, she sees a terrified you boy; in the ten or so years that she has known him, she has never seen him so scared.

"If you want to stay up, I'll stay up with you," she offers.

"Thank you, but I'll be okay," he bravely replies.

Teresa nods and empties the washing up bowl behind him.

"Come on," she takes his hand and gently coaxes him back into the bedroom.

She waits until he is fast asleep in her arms before allowing herself to relax; Jane has defiantly scared her tonight, having never seen him in such a state. Something is different this time; he's been kidnapped numerous times before, she even joined him on one occasion, and when he returned, he seemed a little worse for wear, but he was back to his usual annoying self within hours; something has changed. Trying to get Jane to open up about his feelings is like trying to get an elephant to jump; it's an extremely unlikely event, and as far as she can remember, this _event_ has only occurred once: that was only a couple of days ago. Gently, she runs her fingers soothingly through his blonde curls as he soundly sleeps, hoping that one day, he would be able to tell her his deepest, darkest secrets. But for now, she is content for the love that he gives her, as we'll as the roof over her head and the food in his fridge.

The next morning, Lisbon goes into CBI headquarters early, leaving an exhausted Jane in bed. She is pleasantly surprised to find Van Pelt at her desk, along with Rigsby.

"I didn't expect to see you two in here so early," she smokes at them.

"Hi Boss," Van Pelt cheerily greets.

"You seem awfully chirpy," Lisbon replies.

"Venom hasn't struck again overnight," Grace informs her.

"Good, are the suspects being brought in?"

"Uniforms are on their way," Van Pelt reports, "they'll be in our custody within the hour."

"Where's Jane?" Rigsby abruptly changes the subject.

"He is still in bed," Lisbon replies, "when I checked on him last," she adds hastily.

"Yesterday must've really taken it out of him," Rigsby comments.

"Yeah," Teresa agrees, "so if Cho takes Kingston in interview room one, will you take Jennings into room two."

"Sure," Wayne nods.

"Oh," Van Pelt exclaims, "lab results came back on the venom used in the murders; it's from the Black Mamba."

"That's quite an impressive snake," Cho appears at the door, "so much so that they're banned in this state," he pauses to look around, "where's Jane?"

Lisbon is about to explain, when two men appear at the entrance to the bull pen accompanied by four officers. Rigsby stands and approaches them.

"Mr Jennings?" He asks.

The slightly weedier man steps forward looking slightly confused, "that's me," he replies.

"Come with me please," Wayne turns and is followed by Carl Jennings, the two officers that brought him in trail behind.

Teresa approaches the two officers in charge of Joey Kingston and asks them to take him to interview room one, whilst she briefs Cho on the latest developments.

Obeying orders, they take the stockier of the two suspects into the other room.

A few hours later, the two suspects are released; the team has no physical evidence to hold them, besides, Lisbon has managed to find some officers who are going to keep tabs on the whereabouts on the suspects. If the final victim hasn't been…killed, then the chances are that they will do so tonight, it's a matter of time. The details on both suspects will, in theory, keep the next victim safe.

_That took bloody ages, the agent was nice and all, but two hours in an interrogation room? Answering pretty much the same questions over and over again, each time just phrasing it differently. They're getting onto me, if I'm going to get my last target, I'd better be quick, and crafty, no doubt I'll have someone tailing me. Dammit, if it wasn't for that guy last night, I would have admitted everything and ended it there and then. Tonight… tonight it'll all be over._


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9.**

"So, what've I missed?" Jane enters the bullpen, a lot perkier than he was before.

Rigsby is standing beside the murder board, adding information on both of the suspects.

"We questioned the suspects," Rigsby informs him, "it's a shame that you weren't here, we could have used your sixth sense."  
Jane chuckles before asking "Lisbon in her office?"

Rigsby nods, concentrating more on adding information than his conversation with the consultant. Jane heads for the office, whilst Cho joins Rigsby to compare his interview notes. Patrick gently taps on the door and waits to be summoned in by his partner.

"Come in," is the shout from the other side of the door.

Jane opens the door and peers around the corner to see Teresa at her desk, studying a file on her knee.

"Hey," Jane smiles, attracting her attention.

"Jane," Lisbon replies, "I didn't expect to see you here yet. How're you feeling?"

"Teresa," he begins, before walking in and closing the door behind him, "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Earlier," he sits opposite her in the chair.

"Look Jane, you have nothing to be sorry for," she tells him, "yesterday was rough. You deserve at least some time off."

"I'll be fine," Jane dismisses the thought of being absent from the case, "how did the interviews go with both of the suspects?" he quickly changes the subject.

Lisbon glances at him for a second, before updating him on the latest updates; "both of them have shaky alibis for the two murders, they both claim to be home alone in bed and they don't admit to owning the snake."

"What about contact with the victims?"

"Jennings claims that he buried the hatchet with James Tuffnull years ago, and that he hasn't seen him since high school," she replies, "but Kingston admits to seeing Harding on the street a few weeks ago, they had a quick talk and then went their separate ways, but nothing more than that. What strikes me as odd is…how did the killer find out about the domestic abuse? I doubt that the victims brought it up in conversation."

"There are other ways of telling; maybe the killer saw it in their eyes," Jane reasons, "you can tell a lot of things about a person through their eyes."

Teresa is automatically drawn to gaze into his, but she doesn't knowing that Jane doesn't want to tell her everything personal just yet. She lowers her head a few millimetres, hoping that he wouldn't try his technique out on her.

"A lot of this doesn't make much sense, we need to get all our facts together before we go any further," Lisbon tells him, putting the file on her desk.

"I saw Rigsby and Cho outside, but where's Van Pelt?"

"She went a couple of hours ago to check something out," Teresa responds, "come on, we need to get all this straightened out."

She heads out the office, Jane in tow. The board that Wayne was using before has been moved closer to the table, where he and Cho sit, each with a steaming cup of coffee beside them. They look up in unison and acknowledge Lisbon and Jane, before closing the files that they have been studying. Whilst Jane sits down, Lisbon studies the latest information that has been written on, in Wayne's handwriting.

"I can't believe neither of them lawyer'd up," Wayne starts.

"This guy believes that he is a cut above the rest, he's too smart to get a lawyer," Jane reasons.

"So, how do we catch him?" Cho pitches in.

"The man is clever; he has access to animal tranquilizers and he is physically strong," Jane counts on his fingers, "he thinks that he is invincible."

"Well, the only way to draw him out is to ignore him," Cho sighs, "but that won't save his final victim."

"Okay, so we work out who that is then," Jane smiles.

"You make it sound so easy," Lisbon turns her back to the board, "but how do we do that Jane? Warrants to search both homes would take ages to do, plus we're working against the clock here; it's impossible."

He leans back in his chair, before deciding it was a bad idea and sitting up straight again, "what do the victims have in common?"

"They're men, both domestic abusers, both live in Sacramento, they were killed with the same venom," Rigsby lists.

"Meredith Harding filed complaints against her husband for abuse," Cho adds.

"Did Tuffnull's wife do the same?" Jane intercepts.

Cho rushes to his computer to check, Teresa and Wayne follow.

"Yeah, a year ago, just a single complaint, they were living in New Jersey at the time, but it was retracted," Cho reads from off the screen.

"He promised that it would all change, probably told her that he'd change," Jane sadly admits the truth.

"That's how these are connected. Cho, can you see if either Jennings or Kingston was in that area at the time, maybe they got wind of it," Lisbon orders.

"On it," Cho replies.

"Rigsby, can you get hold of the officers on detail, see if there's been any movement."

Wordlessly, Wayne makes a beeline for his desk phone.

"What do you want me to do boss?" Jane asks with a cheeky grin on his face.

"You just hang tight for now."

Jane mulls it over before getting up and heads straight for the break room, Lisbon follows him, knowing that something is up.

"Do you want a coffee?" he asks.

"What is it?" she responds.

"What is what?"

"You know something."

"I know a lot of things," he points out, retrieving their cups from the cupboard.

"Jane, this is serious, what are you thinking?"

"This guy, like most serial killers, has a trigger; something that makes him wake up in the morning thinking 'today, I'm going to kill someone'," Jane replies.

"Okay, so, what is his?"

"He aims to kill those who beat their wives," Jane drops a teabag in his and shifts to the coffee pot, "my theory is that someone he loved was abused; a family member, his mother perhaps."

"His hatred towards his father drives him to kill," Lisbon realises, "he thinks that he's a superhero; the confidence to do what he likes, the mask…" she trails off.

"It all fits," Jane pours hot water onto his teabag, but stops when he sees Teresa's face, "what is it?"

"We did background checks on Jennings and Kingston," her voice is ghost-like, "neither of them came from an abusive background."


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10.**

The room is eerily dark; water drips from the damp ceiling into a puddle that has been forming for quite a while. In the corner of the room is a single camp bed, shabbily covered with a thick, woollen blanket and a pillow. A single square of sunlight lights up the room through a window high up on the wall, below it is a thin blanket covering a cube like shape, a little light floods underneath it. A shadow moves towards a trunk sat at the end of the bed. It creaks open and the shadow picks up a t shirt, black jeans, a hoody and the mask. He places them on top of the bed. A hiss comes from the same side of the room as the window.

"Ssh," a voice whispers, "don't worry, sweetheart, it is nearly over."

The man pulls off his shirt, revealing pink skin with healed scars etched across both of his sides. He sets down the shirt and puts on a black v neck t-shirt that is in the pile. He does the same with his trousers, similar wounds appear on his legs; all having been made a few years ago by his father. Next, he uncovers the large vivarium hidden under the black cloth; the bright light illuminates the room further, exposing the damp and years of graffiti on the walls. The creature inside reveals itself, a smooth sandy coloured head appears at the glass, her tongue flickers, sniffing for her owner and any potential prey nearby.

"Are you hungry, sweetheart?" he asks.

As if she has telepathically told him, he pulls out a live mouse that he trapped a few hours ago, and waves it in front of the snake, ignoring the squeaks of terror from the mouse. He opens a small compartment on the top of the tank and drops the 'meal' into the shallow box; he then closes the lid and pulls a lever across to drop the mouse in with the snake. Instinctively, she strikes the mouse, injecting her venom into its system, before devouring it whole. Her owner smiles, as like his snake, he too has prey to kill tonight. But first, he needs something special from his pet.

As soon as she has finished her food, he finds his snake hook and expertly removes her from the cage. It is significantly cooler than inside her enclosure and this temperature drop slows her reflexes a little, but not enough to make her completely immobile. Keeping her head away from him, he's safe, and holding her tail, he uses the end of the hook to delicately pin her head to the dusty floor, before picking her up.

"Come with me, baby," he kisses the top of her head, "time to go to work."

Nearby is a jar with a thin piece of paper tied to the top, he gently prises her fangs onto the jar's rim, piercing the paper. Yellow venom begins to drip down the side of the jar, collecting at the bottom. He waits for a few minutes before returning his prize possession to her bed; her work complete.

_And now, he will pay, he will be the last to die…_

The streets are pretty crowded this afternoon, as the sun is out and there is not a cloud in the sky. He walks by pedestrians who have no idea as to what he is planning. From observation, Marcus Zachary, his third victim, has lunch at the same coffee shop that he was at last night; in his line of work, it is pretty easy to keep watch on someone without arousing suspicion. He doesn't have long, especially since Grace Van Pelt has been sniffing around; she's an immovable object, he would never hurt her, but he could not bribe her into keeping his secret, she's not that kind of woman. But she has forced his hand, before he is taken in, before he confesses everything, he has one more duty; even though he has to do it in public, it is time. Marcus is sitting in the sunshine, sipping an ice tea, making googly eyes at every young woman as they pass by. It makes him feel sick. _How am I going to go about this? How can I lure him out? _

"Mr Zachary!" He shouts from the opposite side of the street.

He manages to grab his attention; _great._

"Can I have a word?"

Marcus beckons him over and he crosses the road warily.

"How can I help you, young man?" Zachary asks.

"Sir, it's about your wife," the young man replies, "I'm afraid you need to come with me."

"Oh no, what has happened?" Zachary replies, seemingly concerned for the welfare of his other half.

But the man can see through his façade, "it's a long story, I'll explain on the way sir, please come with me."

"Sorry, I didn't catch your name," Zachary tells the young man, following him across the street.

"This way sir," the young man quickly changes the subject, not wanting Zachary to back off.

He leads his unassuming victim down an alley, close to the two other crime scenes.

"Why? What's going on?"

Marcus keeps close, constantly on the lookout, sweeping his head forwards, then backwards, not even noticing that his companion is pulling on a mask.

"Why are you taking me down here? Have you not heard about these murders lately?"

"Of course I have," the young man replies, his voice a lot deeper.

He quickly turns back on himself and knocks Zachary into the wall, keeping him there with his arm and simultaneously pulling the syringe of venom from his hoody pocket.

"What are you doing?" Zachary's eyes widen in fear, "please, please…"

"I am Venom," he interjects, "and I'm punishing you for your crimes," the mask creases slightly as Venom smiles.

"I've not done anything!" he argues, but his plea is ignored.

The syringe plunges into Marcus's neck; he screams, but they are too far down the alley for anyone to hear him. As the venom takes hold, Venom releases his body and it collapses to the ground. Finally his task is done, and he pulls off the mask revealing the face of the young officer, James Carter.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Agents and officers alike swarm the crime scene, blocking off all views to the public, _'shielding them from such a vicious crime'_ is what they tell passers-by; though the main reason is to conceal the identity of the killer, as they are too ashamed to admit that it is one of their own. Carter had remained beside the body, mask in his hands, the syringe hidden in his pocket; he made no attempt to hide nor did he resist arrest when he is taken by Lisbon and her team and at the request of her superiors, he had his mask on, covering his face.

The ride back is very quiet; even Jane keeps his lips sealed, Cho accompanies Carter in the back seat, whilst Jane joins Lisbon in the front. Van Pelt and Rigsby return to headquarters with each other in Grace's car.

Cho gazes out of the window, refusing to look at the young officer, unable to understand what brought James Carter, a man who had a promising career ahead of him, to kill. Cho had seen serial killers at work, one in particular immediately springs to mind; they are unruly people that have no conscience, unable to be tamed by simple logic, laws and rules. Yet James Carter's demeanour is all wrong; he is calmly watching the world go by out of the opposite window. He didn't fight back or try to claim his innocence; he wanted to be caught. Whether he thinks that he can weasel his way out of this is unclear, but Cho knows that he will get all the answers back at headquarters.

Back at HQ, the air is silent and the atmosphere is tense. Offices and agents part like the Red Sea when Carter is taken down to interrogation room one, many can't believe it, others give him dirty look; but he walks with his head up, willing to accept that, at this moment, all of them hate him. Only Cho goes into the same room as Carter; Lisbon, Jane, Van Pelt and Rigsby go into the observation room.

James is secured to the table by his handcuffs before Kimble sits down.

"Why are you doing this, Cho?" James asks him, pulling the handcuff chain taut, "I'm not going to run and I'm not going to hurt you."

"Precautions," Cho tells him sourly, "you should know that."

"Yeah, but we only do this with dangerous criminals," realisation dawns on him, "you think that I'm dangerous?"

"You have stabbed three people in the neck with a syringe, what am I supposed to think?"

"Okay, but they deserved it," James reasons, his voice unshaken.

"And why is that?"

"Don't act dumb, I know you know. My motive was simple, those…men," he spits, "they didn't deserve to live, they didn't deserve to be in a relationship with women who would do anything for them."

"That is not your decision to make, Carter," Cho replies, sternly.

"So? If I didn't do something, what would happen to them? They would pay someone off to get away with it. I grew up in a household like that," James yanks the chains to lift up his t shirt, revealing dark pink scars, "this is what my father did to me, he did worse to my mother. And what happened? He got away with it."

"You kill men who remind you of your father," Cho states.

"Yes, sentence me to death if you want to, send me to prison for life," James replies grimly, "I'm a big boy, I've seen similar punishments for people like me."

"James, a confession could stop you receiving the death penalty," Cho pushes a pen and paper towards him, "you tell us why we did this, we can help you."

"I'm not insane," James counters.

"Nobody said you are insane," Cho tells him.

"You don't need to say it, I know that you're thinking that," he picks up the pen and begins to write, "I did this because the men deserved it. I found their names on the database," he narrates as he writes, "then I stalked them for a while, planned each to perfection and lured them into an alley close by. I shoved them up against the wall and stabbed them in the neck with a syringe; which was filled with Black Mamba venom."

He looks up, and Cho catches a glimpse of his humanity, some recognition of what he has done finally sinks in.

"If…if I tell you where my snake is, will you please take care of her?" he asks, tears forming in his eyes, "Don't euthanize her, please."

Cho nods in agreement, "I'll see what I can do."

"Oh, and about the consultant that I kidnapped, I never meant to hurt him, I swear. It was the only way that I could talk to someone and explain what I was doing."

"Okay," Cho replies, knowing that Jane is watching from the next room.

James pushes the paper back over to Cho and leans back in his chair.

"Why did you risk it all Carter? You could have had a good career in the future, put these men in prison for what they did."

"Sometimes you risk it all for something that you are passionate about."

There is a knock at the window, so Cho gets up and leaves interrogation to join the others in the observation room. To his surprise, only Lisbon and Rigsby are there.

"What do you think?" Cho asks.

"We'll get him some psychiatric help, we're not putting him in general population," Lisbon replies, not looking away from Carter.

"Where are Jane and Van Pelt?"

"He wanted to ask her a few questions," Rigsby answers.

"Let's get him down to booking," Lisbon tells them, "then we'll deal with the press."

"How are we going to deal with it?" Rigsby enquires.

"By telling the truth, however ugly it is."


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12.**

Patrick and Jane are sat on the sofa in Lisbon's office; watching the interview proved too much for Jane to bear so he excused himself, asking Grace to come with him was a partial cover.

"I have to ask, how did you know it was him?"

"When we found you in that place, it was him that ran into you," Grace begins, "there was a noise at the other end of the room. Lisbon stayed with you, whilst the rest of us tried to chase the suspect. He went missing for about a minute or so during the chase, and I confronted him about this earlier. He made up an excuse, and well, I didn't believe him. He was off from the start, plus I looked at the rota, he was supposed to be on duty at the second crime scene, but he was excused as _something personal _had come up and needed his attention."

"And what made the noise?"

"The wind, there was a draft that made the door slam; he just went along with it to cover his tracks."

"He was under our noses the whole time," Jane sighs.

"Hey, we all missed him," Grace interjects, nudging him with her elbow.

They both look towards the door when they hear footsteps approaching from outside, seconds later, Lisbon, Rigsby and Cho enter the room.

"Right," Lisbon promptly starts, "everyone get comfy, we need to talk."

She locks the door behind them and brings her office chair out from behind her desk; Cho and Rigsby take a chair each and form a circle in the middle of the room, a little confused as to what is going on.

"After all that has happened, we need to be upfront about things," Lisbon tells them, a little uneasily, "even if they _are _against theCBI rules. So who wants to start?"

The room goes quiet, they all look at each other in turn; Van Pelt and Rigsby especially.

"Grace?" Lisbon prompts.

"Okay, well, errm…" she tries to find the right words.

"Grace and I are engaged," Wayne interrupts, his voice low.

They pause to take in the news, although the news is only new to two sets of ears.

"Okay," Teresa breaks the tense silence, "so, what is going to happen? You remember what happened the first time round?"

"We do, that is why we are going to sort out our career paths before we start planning anything," Grace replies, "we've thought this through, whether it means that one of us or both of us leave, we have to accept the fact if we want to be together."

"I'm glad that you've thought this through," Lisbon smiles, "you both deserve to be happy."

"Wayne breathes a sigh of relief, "who's next?"

_May as well bite the bullet, _Teresa tells herself.

"If we're going to get things out in the open," Jane pipes up, "I'm in…well, I'm seeing someone at the minute."

"Really, who?" Grace leans forward, intrigued.

"Well…" Jane looks up at Lisbon, smiling.

"What?" Grace's jaw drops to the floor, even Cho is surprised.

"When was this?"

"A few days ago," Jane answers, honestly.

"Well, this…is unexpected," Rigsby tries to act surprised, but it doesn't fool his boss.

"You knew, didn't you?" she asks him.

"No…of course not," he tries to get out of it.

"Jane, did he know?"

"Yes, but I knew about them so…"

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Okay, I'm out of here," Cho gets up, "this has nothing to do with me."

"Who wants to bet that he knew about Van Pelt and Rigsby?" Jane offers.

"I had suspicions," he counters, "but I knew nothing about you and the boss."

"So, what happens now?" Grace asks.

"We keep quiet," Lisbon tells them, "and that's an order. Nobody upstairs or out of this room needs to know anything about what's going on between Rigsby and Van Pelt, or Jane and me, understood?"

They all nod, knowing the consequences of what would happen.

"Good," Teresa sighs, "come on, let's all go home; it's been a long and exhausting day for us all."

Jane and Lisbon are curled up on his sofa, the fire crackles softly as the flames lick up towards the chimney.

"Why didn't you tell me about them?" Lisbon asks.

"I was none of my business, " Jane replies, before taking a sip of his wine, "but I'm glad it's all out in the open now, no more hiding or sneaking about. You know, saying 'Rigsby and Van Pelt' all the time is quite time consuming, maybe we could shorten it," he pauses in thought, "what about 'Rigspelt'?"

"Ha," she chuckles, "maybe we should combine ours too?"

"Okay, what about…"

"No, if we're thinking the same thing, it sounds all kind of wrong."

"Okay, but I will tell you this," he replies, "this morning, when…well you know…"

"Jane, you were scared, there's no need to explain," she interjects, sitting up.

"Yeah, but I've been kidnapped before and it's never had an effect on me, but this time was different. It was different because, now, I have you. I was scared because I thought that I might lose you," he admits.

"Oh Jane," she pulls him close, "I'm not going anywhere."

He smiles as he wraps his arms around her, planting a kiss on the top of her head, "I know."

**A/N: Okay, this is going to be the last one for a while. I'm starting college soon and I need to do a lot of reading before, unfortunately, this doesn't include Fanfiction. Thank you again for all of the views and reviews, it's amazing! Lots of love, CallMeHannah. x **


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